Chapter 12: Baggage

                                    

                                          
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Do you ever have those moments where you ponder the meaning of life? When you look down at your hands and become amazed that you control them? It was 6:32 pm on Saturday when I had one of those moments. 
                          
The alarm I had set on my phone told me it was time to go. This snapped me from my reverie and I double-checked my appearance one more time. My hair was up in a low fashionable bun that revealed my high cheekbones, drawn out by a thin layer of makeup. I was never one to heavily apply cosmetics so I kept it simple with a little concealer and mascara. Nothing complicated but enough to draw attention to my eyes.
                          
The clock read 6:35 pm when I put on my favorite pair of heels. Let's be honest, every girl has that special pair that makes her feel like the most important woman on earth. Well, maybe the most important version of themselves, at least. 
                          
I locked up my apartment and headed down to my car. The radio powered on as I pulled out of the driveway, playing something on the classical radio station. Bruckner, I think. Maybe his Symphony No. 5? Or was it No. 4? The drive to the Avenger's Tower was about 26 minutes so I had plenty of time to conclude that it was No. 4. 
                          
Steve waited outside the building to let me into the garage. He typed a code into the keypad and the gate lifted for me to drive through. As promised, his parking spot was empty so I pulled in and turned off the engine. He smiled as he opened the driver's side door for me, "Hey, there."
                          
"Hi," I stepped out and blushed under his gaze. You'd think I would have become accustomed to his affectionate looks, but they still felt new to me. When I was with him, the butterflies I had thought I'd outgrown returned. They loved to do summersaults and make my pulse race. 
                          
He grinned and took my hand. "Up for a walk?"
                          
"With you?" I looked up and laced our fingers together. "Always."
                          
We walked to Greeley Square Park and spent the next 45 minutes talking. It was a beautiful evening and the crowds had lessened when we headed back to the Tower. "Do you miss working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Steve asked as he pressed an elevator button. "You seemed to like the action."
                          
I sighed and crossed my arms as we moved into motion. "I enjoyed the excitement," I confessed, "but I think teaching has been good for me. My students are bright and don't give me too much trouble."
                          
Steve surveyed me out of the corner of his eye to see that I told the truth. Before Agent Coulson approached me at graduation, I'd considered teaching. So, after S.H.I.E.L.D. was shut down, my new job didn't bother me. It just wasn't my first choice.
                          
The elevator doors opened to reveal a vast room with staircases that led to multiple floors. I stepped outside and looked up in awe. 
                          
"Like it?" Tony's voice took me off guard me so that I jumped in surprise. "I designed it myself."
                          
I tried to smile. Tried to nod and respond like anyone else would have, but something in my eyes must have conveyed my buried anger. 
                          
"Amber, this is Tony Stark," Steve thought my distant attitude was because we lacked an appropriate introduction.
                          
Tony, however, noticed something else. "Do I know you from somewhere? You look . . . vaguely familiar."
                          
I took the passive out of my passive-aggressive question: "Does miniature arc reactor jog your memory?"
                          
His eyes widened slightly before he managed to suppress his shock. "Yes, I uh," he stroked his chin. "I suppose it does. MIT, right?"
                          
"You know each other?" Steve looked between us with a furrowed brow.
                          
" 'Know' is generous," I grumbled. "We've crossed paths."
                          
Tony took a sip of his drink. "Those designs weren't finished, you know. I had to make significant modifications."
                          
"But you stole my idea," my hands balled into fists at my side. I fumed until smoke practically came out of my ears like a teakettle. "I worked for months on that project and you shut me down. You were my idol. I believed in you, but clearly that was a mistake. You were supposed to give me answers, not take all of the credit for my hard work."
                          
He shrugged as if he'd done nothing wrong. "Credit where credit's due, right? After all, I'm the one who had an arc reactor in their chest. Not you."
                          
I shook my head, tempted to spit in his face. Instead, I turned to leave. "This was a mistake," I said as I walked toward the elevator. "I wanted closure, but I can't offer forgiveness to someone who acknowledges no wrong."
                          
"Leaving so soon, blondie?" Natasha suddenly entered the scene. "The party hasn't even started yet."
                          
I stopped and looked at her, feeling so much anger and frustration. But then, I remembered how much meeting the team meant to Steve. I glanced back to see his face was riddled with confusion and concern. Then, I took a deep breath, relaxed my fists, and came to a decision. "You're right, I should stick around," I said. "It's good to see you, Natasha."
                          
She smiled and walked over to the bar, "Let the fun begin."
                          
Tony left to greet some incoming guests while Steve reached for my elbow. "What was that about?" he asked.
                          
"Just some unresolved baggage," I dismissed his question. 
                          
He searched my eyes. "About Tony's tech?"
                          
"My tech," I corrected. I sighed and looked across the room to see the NYC skyline through the windows. "Tony heard of a miniature arc reactor from me. I came to him with the designs during my senior year at MIT. I was so close!" Again, I felt the frustration rise. I rolled my head back and took a deep breath. "Everyone told me I was crazy. And then, here Tony Stark appears with a finished design and is praised, once again, for being a technological genius."
                          
Natasha slid a glass of alcohol across the bar to me, but I waved my hand. "I like to keep my wits about me, but thanks."
                          
"Come on," she laughed. "It helps after dealing with Tony. I should know."
                          
Again I shook my head. "Tempting, but I think I'd rather punch him instead."
                          
"That works too," she shrugged and downed the glass on her own.
                          
Steve looked down at me and then across the room at Tony. His brow furrowed as his jaw clenched. He was angry and about to do something rash. When he started to move forward, I grabbed his arm firmly.
                          
"Don't," I said. "Beating up Iron Man will ruin Captain America's reputation."
                          
"Not if what he did was unjust," he replied firmly. 
                          
Still, I held on. "At least wait until after the party," I forced a weak smile. "You'd make a huge mess."
                          
It took a moment before he was able to tear his eyes away from Tony. "Okay," he consented though nothing in his expression indicated the matter was resolved.
                          
"Is this the girl you won't shut up about?" A male voice asked as the rest of the Avengers came downstairs to join the increasing number of party guests.
                          
Steve chuckled, the past conflict momentarily forgotten. "Amber," he gestured to the assembly, "Meet the Avengers."